


Tell Daddy

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Carriage Rides, Cell Phones, Classical Music, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Comfort, Conversations, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Heals, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endearments, Falling In Love, Feeding, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Forehead Touching, Friendship, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Healing, Help line, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Meet-Cute, Music, Neck Kissing, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Phone Calls & Telephones, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protectiveness, Public Display of Affection, Pulse Kissing, Rain, Rimming, Romance, Sappy, Self Confidence Issues, Shushing, Shyness, Slash, Smitten Credence Barebone, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Student Credence Barebone, Tea, Teasing, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Touch-Starved, Touching, Touchy-Feely, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Credence doesn't cope well with loneliness. A desperate action leads him to find not only a friend, but so much more than he's ever dared to wish for.





	1. Tea and Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> I was out running errands and misread some advertising on the side of a van as "Dadline", and this happened. :)

Credence had been staring at the phone number for several minutes now. He'd torn the scrap of paper off a notice on the public library's pin board. Now he was sitting on an isolated bench outside the building, feeling silly and pathetic. His hands were shaking as he tapped the number into his mobile phone.

A deep, gruff voice answered mechanically. "Hi there. This is Dial-a-Dad, please-"

Credence instantly tapped the button to end the call. His throat felt constricted with nervous tension. He had absolutely no idea what to say.

Holding his phone in one sweaty hand, he took several sips of the cooling takeaway coffee that had been parked next to him. He contemplated the number again, wondering what had possessed him to take it in the first place. It had been a spur of the moment action that was very unlike him, and he'd barely glanced at the full text of the notice before ripping off one of the number snippets. The idea of confiding in a stranger was terrifying to him, but there was a comforting pretence involved here, and... well, he simply had no one else to talk to.

With a sigh, he dialled the hotline again, and his heart was pounding when the call was answered.

"Hello," said a different voice, much warmer and more... human than the previous one. "What's the trouble, little one?"

Credence drew a deep breath. He took a moment to gather some composure, while the man at the other end of the line waited patiently for him to form words. "Hi," he croaked. "I... I'm lonely."

There was a disconcertingly long pause before the stranger spoke. "I'm so sorry, but I'm here for you. You can tell me anything, you know."

Credence hadn't known that, but he had no difficulty imagining it to be true. The voice sounded so friendly and approachable. "I don't know where to start," he admitted.

"Hmm. That's always the tough part. Why don't you start by telling me where you are at the moment. Are you staying somewhere on your own?"

"Not really. I've just moved away from... from ma, my foster mother. I started college, and I'm living in the dorms."

"It sounds as if there'd be quite a few people around all the time. Finding it hard to make friends?"

Credence sighed. "Yes, I-I've never had friends. I don't even know how to talk to people without saying something silly."

"You're talking to me and making perfect sense," the other pointed out.

Credence thought about that. "You're making it easy for me. I don't feel like I have anything in common with the other students. My life at home was so strange, and I was so isolated and, once word got around about it, everyone started ridiculing me."

"People can be extraordinarily stupid and unkind," said the man, "especially when it comes to those who are different, and whose experiences have been unusual, often through no choice of their own."

Credence sighed. "I guess so. The thing is though... everyone thinks I'm a freak." Before the man could speak, he added, "I think they're right."

The other's voice was soft when he said, "That's not true."

"It is," Credence insisted.

"Why would you think that?" the man asked. "You're a nice, sweet-natured boy."

Credence raised his fingers to his mouth, pressing them there to stop a sob from escaping. How he wanted to believe that, but how could he? "You can't know that," he pointed out.

"Darling, anyone could tell just from talking to you for a couple of minutes."

Credence gasped at the endearment, but he couldn't stop the way it warmed him from the inside out. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I do. Would daddy lie to you?"

"I..." Suddenly, the pretence of talking to a father he'd never had made Credence feel very strange. He didn't know, couldn't answer the question. Ma had lied to him plenty of times. He had no way of knowing if a real father would have done so. "I really don't know," he said honestly, his voice cracking a little.

"Hey," the man murmured. "Hey, it's okay to be unsure. That's why you called, right? Because you're feeling unsettled, insecure... not grounded."

"Yes," Credence admitted. The description fit him perfectly.

"I'd very much like you to believe me when I say I wouldn't lie to you. You have so much gentleness in your voice, and I'm not a cruel person. But I know it's hard to take people at their word. And it's okay if you don't. Really, it is."

"It is?" Credence asked.

"Sure it is. You've been hurt a lot, I think. And no one can blame you for wanting to protect yourself. It's a good idea."

"How do you know about that? About... ma?"

The man at the other end of the line was silent for a few moments. He was taking a long, audible breath, almost as if to calm himself, before he spoke again. "Poor darling, it's in the things you say and how you say them."

Credence's fingers, still hovering over his mouth, touched it again, and he couldn't quite hold back a single sob this time.

"Don't be upset," the man said soothingly. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's... it's okay," Credence murmured. "It's just that... no one else knows, or would ever care; except Miss Goldstein, the social worker. And I don't know if you really do care, or if you're just good at this talking thing, and it's-"

"Shh, it's okay. If you need to cry, that's okay, too. But don't cry because you think I'm just pretending to care. I'm worried about you, you know." The man paused for a moment before he said, even more softly, "Listen, do you mind if I ask you something that's not normally part of these conversations?"

Credence sniffed. "Okay. Go ahead."

"Will you tell me your age?"

Credence blinked. "I'm 19."

There was a heavy silence before the man said, "That's about what I thought." He said more softly, cautiously even, "Now, I don't want you to panic, or feel bad about this... You didn't know that this hotline is meant for children, did you?"

It felt as if the bottom dropped out of Credence's stomach, and his face flushed with heat. "Oh god, I'm sorry! I didn't realise. I'm so stupid. I'll-" He would have ended the call immediately to quietly die of embarrassment but, somehow, he couldn't contemplate the loss of the other's kind voice just yet.

"Wait. It's fine, I promise. I'm only telling you this because I can't really keep talking to you on this line, but that doesn't mean I don't want to help you. So don't hang up on me just yet, okay?"

"Okay." Credence tried to control his breathing. "I really am sorry, I should have known."

"It's a genuine mistake. We don't generally ask the children's age or name, unless the authorities need to be alerted. We just offer a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, and careful advice." There was a smile in the kind voice when it went on, "If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. No one could mistake your voice for a child's. I could have told you right away."

"Why... why didn't you?" Credence asked, still feeling very sheepish.

The man sighed. "Because you sounded like you really need someone to talk to, whether you're 12, 16 or 19. You need a friend, and I didn't want to turn you away just because you're not a child."

"Oh. But if you're not allowed to talk to me-"

"Not on this line, and not as part of my work, that's all," the man clarified. "But why don't I give you my personal phone number? My shifts are from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., Monday through Wednesday. Anytime outside that, you can call me or text me, okay? And if it's an emergency, during those times, too, and I'll return your call on my own phone the first chance I get. How does that sound?"

Credence was speechless. His eventual 'thank you' was soft and heartfelt.

The man told him his number, and Credence quickly scribbled it down, along with the name he was given: Percival Graves.

"Sounds like the name of a prince," Credence said, then felt silly.

"Why thank you. Percival was one of King Arthur's Knights of the Roundtable, actually. May I ask yours?"

"Credence Barebone."

"It's a pleasure, Credence."

Credence thought it quite fitting Mr Graves should share his name with a knight. And he liked how his own name sounded in Mr Graves' voice; so different to his perception of it. "Would it be okay if..."

When several seconds passed, Mr Graves prompted, "Go ahead, ask me anything." 

"Um... could I call you daddy, even though..." Credence scrambled for the right words, then instead hurried to say, "It's okay if that's too weird. I won't, if you don't want me to. I mean, I guess I'm too old for that, and you're probably not even old enough to-"

"Credence," Mr Graves gently stopped his rambling, "would it make you feel better when talking to me about painful things?"

"Yes," Credence admitted with a sigh. "I... it's why I called the number. I really liked the idea of talking to a father figure. I've never known my real father."

"It's okay, you know. I don't mind at all. And I'm 40, by the way. I could have a son your age."

Credence smiled at the phone. "Why are you so nice to me?"

Mr Graves' answering smile was audible when he said, "Because I meant every word I said. You're a gentle, sweet-natured boy, and you deserve someone who listens and is there for you. I'd like to be that someone."

It took a few moments before Credence fully found his voice. "May I... call you tonight... d-daddy?" 

There was a slight hitch in Mr Graves' voice. "Sure, darling. You call me tonight, and anytime you need to talk, or if you just feel lonesome and need to hear a friendly voice, okay?"

"Okay," Credence murmured. Somehow, he hadn't expected the endearment, on this more personal level and now that they knew each other's names. That he still got to be 'darling' made him feel... precious. "Do you want my number too?" he asked hesitantly.

"That would be lovely. And safer, just in case you lose mine."

"I wouldn't!" Credence hurried to say, then blushed. "I mean, I wrote it down, and I'll enter it into my phone right away."

"Great." Mr Graves sounded pleased, and he took down the number Credence gave him. Then he said, "I'm going to have to end this call now, I'm sorry. I don't want to, Credence. But we'll talk later, all right?"

"Yes," Credence quickly said. "I understand. Bye, daddy."

"Bye for now, my boy."

When the call ended, Credence held the phone and looked at it, realising how much better he felt. He hurriedly added the number to his contacts under 'Daddy'. Then he tucked the scrap of paper safely away in his wallet, and the other's endearments in his heart.

* * *

It was nearly 8 p.m. before Credence dared to call Mr Graves. He didn't want to be annoying, even though he had been assured it would be okay to call.

"Hello, darling," was the greeting he received, and heat swept up his face at the realisation that no one had greeted him that way in any context, ever.

"Hello, daddy." Credence settled more comfortably in the stationery closet he had requisitioned for privacy, greatly relieved at the pleasure audible in the other's voice.

"I'm glad you decided to call. To be honest, I was beginning to worry you might have changed your mind."

"Oh, I wouldn't! I just wasn't sure how early would be too early, and then I started worrying about it getting too late." Credence sighed. "I'm sorry I'm so..."

"Polite? Concerned about proper etiquette?" Mr Graves suggested. It was clear he was smiling. "It's very commendable that you're like that, but let's make a bargain: no worrying about too earlies or too lates, all right? Any time you want to talk to me, you call me. _Any_ time. Don't even think twice about it."

Once he got over his momentary speechlessness, Credence agreed softly, "Okay. If you're sure, daddy?"

"Yes, I am," Mr Graves said. "Now... how was your afternoon?"

"It was okay, I guess. A lot of school work. It keeps me from..." Credence didn't know how to explain.

"From thinking about distressing things?"

Credence was becoming used to Mr Graves' gift of perception. "Yes."

"Sometimes, keeping busy is the best thing to do. But it can't compete with pouring your heart out."

"I guess not," Credence murmured. "I'm still so embarrassed I called that number. I really didn't know it was for children. I should have had a longer look at the notice."

"Credence, please don't worry about that. If anything, it's the charity's fault for not making it clearer. Besides..." There were sounds like shifting fabric and a scraping of a piece of furniture over a wooden floor. "It's a good thing you called that number, because here we are now, and you've found someone to talk to. We all need that."

"You're sure I'm not disturbing you?" Credence asked, to whom something else entirely had just occurred. "I mean, it's evening, you're probably home with your family and don't want to talk to a total stranger."

"I don't have a family, Credence. I live on my own." There was no sadness or resentment of the fact in Mr Graves' voice, as if it was a thing that was his choice.

Credence wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't imagine choosing to be alone.

"I'm really am happy to talk to you, you know, please don't worry."

"Why?" Credence asked. Then, concerned he might come across as rude, he clarified. "I mean, you do this kind of thing all day. Aren't you fed up by evening?"

Mr Graves laughed softly, and it was such a warm, reassuring sound; Credence decided he liked it very much.

"This is quite different. I talk to actual children all day, and it's often rather complicated to find out what's going on and how to help them. You're an adult, and you're very nice to talk to, you know?"

Credence smiled. "I am?"

"Yes, you are."

Mr Graves was smiling too, Credence could tell. "So are you, daddy. I feel... calmer, just hearing your voice."

"That's wonderful, darling." Mr Graves' voice wavered a little on the 'darling' this time.

Not knowing what to make of that, Credence said, "I was never treated like an adult at home. I guess that's why I'm... like this."

"I'm sorry about your home life, Credence, but you know, it's normal to feel out of your depth when you first venture out into the world. Everybody is intimidated by that."

"Maybe, but I should be glad to be away from ma." Credence sighed. "I... I am glad, but even though she didn't like me, I didn't feel as alone, at least."

"Sometimes, it may seem as if bad company is better than none at all." Mr Graves hummed to himself for a moment, as if forming his next words carefully. "You had quite a bad time at home, didn't you?"

Credence leaned his forehead on his drawn up knees and mumbled, "Yes."

"Do you want to tell me about it? Do you think that might help?" Mr Graves' voice had softened to match Credence's slightly muffled tone.

"I don't know. Maybe. She... hurt me a lot." He hesitated. "With words, and... and with my belt."

There was a silence during which Mr Graves drew several deep breaths. When he next spoke, his voice had softened even further. "My sweet boy. I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

Credence felt the tears starting up. He swallowed a few times, trying to get them under control and keep them out of his voice, but his half choked off sobs were clearly audible.

Mr Graves could clearly tell, and his own voice sounded affected. "Have a good cry, darling. Daddy's here. Don't talk anymore until you're ready."

And Credence allowed the tears to fall freely then. The words, kinder than any ever spoken to him, were too much. He cried and cried, pressing the phone hard against his ear and trying to concentrate on the other's breathing to the exclusion of all else.

Mr Graves listened silently, except for the occasional soothing word and reassurance that everything would be okay.

Eventually, after being told, "I'm here for you, darling, you're not alone anymore," Credence calmed down. A constriction he had been feeling around his ribcage for as long as he could remember had loosened enough to allow him a few deep, calming breaths.

"I'm sorry," Credence said, feeling and sounding exhausted but very much relieved. "I've never cried like that before."

"There's absolutely no need to apologise," Mr Graves reassured him. "There's no shame in tears, Credence. You have to let go sometimes to release the pressure. I just wish I could be there to dry your tears for you."

Credence swallowed. "You... you do?" he asked softly.

It took a few seconds for a response. "I do. And I think you could use a hug, too." 

Credence wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "I... yes, I could," he admitted. 

"Are you in your dorm?" Mr Graves asked.

"No. I'm..." Credence cleared his throat. "I'm sitting in a stationery closet." When he actually thought about this, he couldn't help his escaping giggle, surprising himself with how completely his mood had changed. "It's silly, I know."

"Not at all. You do what you have to for privacy." Mr Graves was moving around a little, Credence could tell. "Don't mind my rummaging, Credence. I'm just getting myself a cup of tea. Want one?"

Credence smiled. "Yes, please."

"Coming right up. By the way..."

"Yes?"

"You have a cute giggle."

Flushing deeply, Credence half hid his face in his damp sleeve, even though there was no one there to see him. "Thank you," he murmured vaguely at the phone.

"I'm not embarrassing you, am I?" Mr Graves asked in an amused voice.

"Noo?" Credence was well aware how unconvincing he sounded.

Chuckling, Mr Graves said, "I'm sorry, darling."

Shivering, Credence grappled for something to say other than telling Mr Graves how much he enjoyed being called darling.

"Do I make you uncomfortable with the 'darlings'?" Mr Graves asked then. "Please tell me if I do, and I'll stop."

"No!" Credence flushed. "No, please don't stop. I really like it."

"You do, huh?" 

"Yes. Though the mind reading is scary."

Mr Graves laughed.

Fearing to be asked why he liked the 'darlings', and not really able to explain, Credence quickly continued, "What kind of tea are we having?"

"I have all kinds. Do you have a preference?" Mr Graves asked.

"No. I've never really had much tea. Whatever you're having, daddy." 

"Chinese Dragonwell it is then."

Credence's eyes widened. "Okay. Sounds interesting."

"It's a pity you can't really try some just now. Tea after tears is very soothing, and this one is especially good." 

"What's it like?" 

"It's a very sweet, delicate green tea."

"It doesn't sound sweet and delicate," Credence said, surprised.

Mr Graves chuckled. "I suppose not. Then again, you have a very masculine voice, but I think it's fair to say you're sweet and delicate, no?"

Credence made a surprised sound.

"I assure you, that's a compliment, Credence." 

"I guess so. Thank you, daddy." Credence smiled, absently brushing his knuckles over his hot cheek. To cover up his embarrassment, he quickly asked, "What made you want to do this hotline job? If I'm allowed to ask."

"Of course you're allowed to ask." There was the sound of a kettle on the verge of whistling, but it was taken off the stove just before it got there. "I was two thirds of the way into a child psychology degree before having to give up on that. My parents died quite suddenly, and within a short time span, and I had to take care of the estate."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Credence. Adapting is what life is all about. Anyway, I lost far too much study time, and the estate still takes up too much of my week to get back to that degree. So I decided to put what I know to some practical use at least."

"I'm very glad about that." Credence absently peeled at the edges of his phone's soft case.

"So am I, darling." Mr Graves' teacup clinked gently against a saucer. "Credence..."

"Yes, daddy?"

"I wonder if you'd like to talk face to face some time?"

Credence was surprised and a little disconcerted by just _how_ much he liked that idea. "You would want that?"

"Only if you do, Credence. If you're in any way uncomfortable with it, we'll forget all about it and just keep talking on the phone." Mr Graves sounded calm and kind as ever, but his deep voice held an undertone of hope.

It gave Credence courage. "I would like it a lot," he admitted, smiling when Mr Graves made a sound like a friendly bear.

"Great. That's great. Well... what do you say we meet in a cafe, somewhere not too far from your college. I'm guessing you don't have a car?"

"No, I don't." Credence considered places he'd seen around his new neighbourhood. "But I can't think of anywhere nice near here."

"Which college do you attend, Credence?"

"Hunter."

Mr Graves considered this. "That's in Lenox Hill, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll find us somewhere handy to it, how does that sound?"

Credence fidgeted a little. "Are you sure you have the time, daddy? It's not out of your way?"

"Not at all. I live on the Upper East Side myself, so I'm not that far away from you."

Suppressing a feeling of joy at that information, Credence merely said, "Oh. That's good."

"I agree." Mr Graves sipped his tea for a moment of comfortable silence before asking, "What are you studying?"

"Social Sciences. When Miss Goldstein, the social worker, got me away from ma and arranged for me to get funding to go to college and live there, I decided that's the kind of thing I want to do too: help people in... bad homes."

"That's a very worthy field of study. I'm proud of you for wanting to do that kind of work." Mr Graves sounded impressed, and it warmed Credence.

"Thank you. She told me it was hard work, and stressful."

"I'm sure it is. But there are probably many areas you can specialise in and, you know, once your own life is stable and makes you feel grounded and contented, doing work like that will be easier."

Credence grew serious. "I don't know that it's very likely for me to ever have that kind of life."

"Why not, darling?" Mr Graves sounded concerned.

Weighing up how honest he should be, and deciding he couldn't lie to Mr Graves or even tell him a half truth, Credence told him quietly, "I don't want to live on my own, and no one will ever want me."

"You can't possibly know that," Mr Graves told him. "There's someone out there for everyone."

Sighing, Credence said, "I'm... not normal. I'm a sinner, ma always told me so."

"Why am I not surprised she should have been a religious fanatic?" Mr Graves said, sounding genuinely annoyed. "Credence, you must never take anything to heart that an abuser tells you. Every word, every claim, is designed to make you feel bad about yourself, and isolated. There is no truth in any of it, I can guarantee you that."

"But you don't know what I am," Credence said.

"Well, what is this terrible thing that you are? Aside from a thoroughly sweet boy, that is?"

Credence gasped. "I... oh, daddy, I'm all wrong. I... I don't like women, I like men," he finished in a hushed voice, rather as if he was expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him down right there amidst the stacked printer paper and toner cartridges.

"Is that all?" Mr Graves asked lightly. "So do I. There's not a thing wrong with that."

"Oh." Credence digested this information slowly. It made him feel many things, including relief, surprise and curiosity. "You... really?" he asked, to make sure.

"Yes, really." Mr Graves chuckled. Then he grew serious, "Is that why you called yourself a freak earlier? Oh, my goodness."

"Mainly, yes," Credence admitted. "Not just that though. I wear horrible second hand clothes, and my hair looks shaggy since I let my old bowl cut grow out, and I don't understand half of what the other students talk about most of the time."

"Unless students have changed a lot lately, it's probably not worth knowing," Mr Graves told him with authority. "I can't comment on your hair or clothes, but I'm sure they're not half as bad as you think. I'll have to let you-" He stopped.

Credence grew nervous after a few moments of silence. "What is it, daddy?" 

"Is there any light in your stationery closet?" Mr Graves asked, to Credence's surprise.

"Uh... yes, a little."

"How about this? Since we're going to meet somewhere and need to recognise each other anyway, would you like to take a quick snapshot and send it to me after this call?" Mr Graves promised, "I'll tell you what I think of your hair and clothes, if you like."

Credence's stomach lurched with nerves, even though he was sure any criticism would be given as kindly as possible. "I... I guess so." He wondered for a moment how to ask but, once again, Mr Graves knew what was on his mind.

"I'll send you one too, of course."

"Yes, please. I'd like that a lot."

They talked for a little while longer, until Credence said he would have to head to bed soon, due to classes the next morning.

Mr Graves promised to make a couple of suggestions for places to meet the next day, and reminded Credence about the photo.

Credence hadn't forgotten. His stomach was in knots about it, his self-consciousness at an all time high. And as much as he really wanted to see what Mr Graves looked like, he hated having to send him a photo of himself.

He chewed his lower lip while he contemplated how to actually take a selfie. "I'll send it in a moment," he said, adding, more bravely than he felt, "please be honest what you think, daddy."

"Of course I will be, Credence. I'll send you a quick text message to tell you the first thing that comes to mind."

"Okay," Credence said shakily. "I'll talk to you tomorrow then?"

"Absolutely. Have a good night, darling."

"Night, daddy."

Once they'd ended the call, Credence looked up towards the single bulb in the room. Then he held his phone up in the air and took a quick photo. His hand was shaking so badly, the first photo ended up blurry, and he had to try it twice more. Once he got a clear, steady shot of himself looking up and appearing every bit as scared as he was, he quickly sent it to Mr Graves before he could think too hard about it.

Mr Graves' photo arrived before his had finished sending, and Credence stared at it for a long time, all but forgetting about the one he'd sent or taking note of how long it was taking to get a comment.

He didn't know what he'd expected the man to look like. He had been a disembodied, very pleasant, voice, and he was so very kind. It seemed unlikely in the extreme he could be good-looking as well, so maybe Credence had assumed him to be kind of homely. Nice but ordinary looking...

Mr Graves was anything but ordinary, and Credence's heart was pounding for reasons quite unrelated to fear or apprehension. He was enthralled by the handsome face, soft smile, and hair and eyes as dark as his own but given intensity by straight dark brows. He was tracing what looked like a mole, or maybe two, on the man's cheek, when he accidentally opened a reply and, before he could think better of it, typed out, "You're very handsome, daddy."

Once that was sent, he dropped his forehead to his right knee and groaned. That's when a reply came in and, if the other's photo had been a surprise, the words he read astounded him, thrilled him, and left him feeling close to invincible.

"Oh, darling. You look like an angel. An absolute angel! And if anyone says otherwise, they will have me to deal with."

It was the first time in living memory that Credence went to sleep with a smile on his face.


	2. My Heart Opens To Your Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV changes about halfway into this chapter from Credence to Percival; there's a clear definition.
> 
> And, once you get to _Kowalski's_ , which ended up being more Vienna than New York City, there's a Spotify playlist; you'll find the link to it at the appropriate point in the text and, hopefully, my timing is not too off. :) If you don't use Spotify, here's a list of the pieces of music: 
> 
> Carmen: La fleur que tu m'avai jetée (Flower Song) - Georges Bizet  
> Le carnaval des animaux: The Swan (Le Cygne) - Camille Saint-Saëns  
> La Bohème: Quando men vo (Musetta's Waltz) - Giacomo Puccini  
> Tosca: Rendita armonia - Giacomo Puccini  
> Gianni Schicchi: O mio babbino caro - Giacomo Puccini  
> Samson et Dalila, Op. 47:Mon Cœur s’ouvre à ta voix - Camille Saint-Saëns

Phones had to be turned off during classes but, when Credence checked his during a mid-morning break the following day, he had a message from Mr Graves waiting.

"Did you sleep well, darling? Missing you. Will get lunch at a coffee shop I passed by this morning and see if it's good enough to invite you there. Enjoy your day until I speak to you."

Credence smiled to himself and tapped out his reply at once. "I slept very well, daddy. Hope you did too. Miss you!" He was about to turn his phone off again, when he received another message.

"Thank you for the compliment last night."

Blushing, Credence replied. "Thank you too. I'm sure I don't deserve it."

"Will convince you otherwise later," came back within seconds.

"OK" Credence typed back, waited another moment, then turned off his phone as he headed to his next class, unsure just how he was going to concentrate on _Social Law_.

* * *

Credence waited, not so patiently, for 2 p.m.—the end of Mr Graves' hotline shift. He was just wondering how bad it would look if he called immediately, when he got a message.

"Good time to talk?"

"Yes!" he replied at once, well and truly on his own, leaning against the outside wall of the Silberman School of Social Work building.

His phone rang instantly, proclaiming that ‘Daddy’ wished to speak to him.

"Hello!" Credence breathed into the phone.

"Hello there."

Credence wasn't sure whether his imagination was playing tricks on him, but Mr Graves' voice sounded even nicer to him than the day before. Or maybe he had simply missed it that much.

"Everything okay, darling?" came the concerned question when he'd been silent a little too long.

"Yes, everything's fine, daddy." He leaned back against the glass wall, smiling softly to himself. "How was lunch?"

"Quite nice, as it happens. It's a very friendly place with delicious food. I think you'll like it. Got any plans for this afternoon?"

Credence's heart leapt a little. "No, none."

"Do you want to meet me there? It's on the corner of 3rd Avenue and East 120th Street. I did some research and figured that, with your course, you’d be at the Silberman School, so it should be no more than a few blocks away from you. Am I right?”

“Yes, you are,” Credence said, touched.

“I'm happy to send a cab for you, if you like."

"No need! I'm very close to that. I can be there in about ten minutes." Credence smiled at Mr Graves' thoughtfulness. "What's it called?"

" _Kowalski's Coffeehouse & Bakery_. I'm nearly back there myself, but please don't rush."

Credence was walking already, at the steadiest pace he could handle without panting audibly. "On my way," he said. The moment they ended the call, he started to jog, rather than walk, down 3rd Avenue, only slowing down once he approached the corner. He didn’t want to get there too obviously out of breath.

[Spotify Playlist starts here](https://open.spotify.com/user/h3nijm8qi5pk89fv3hypd33yf/playlist/76jCFeZJeSC6skNrUbNR8m?si=8waSQg04QrSXXR1D3gJ1vA)

_Kowalski's_ was a charming, old-fashioned looking place that might have sat there unchanged since the early 20th century. The moment Credence pushed the door open and the bell above it rang out, he was greeted by a welcoming, but not oppressive, coffee-scented warmth, which felt like a blanket spreading over him. Soft classical music was playing for the half dozen appreciative listeners there. The few tables in the place were small and round, with pristine white covers; only one or two accommodated more than 2 people, and the chairs had thickly padded back and seat cushions in peach pink.

But the decor, the scent, and the atmosphere of the place, became meaningless when Credence saw the man at the counter turn to him with an elegant sweep of his open black trench coat and break into a smile.

"Daddy," Credence whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear, but his smile was brilliant.

"Credence!" Mr Graves crossed the short distance between them in a few strides, stopping immediately in front of him. "I'm glad you could come at such short... well, frankly, no notice at all."

Credence laughed, and Mr Graves joined in, and as neither of them could keep from letting his eyes roam over every detail of the other's face, neither was inclined to feel awkward about it.

“Look at you,” Mr Graves murmured eventually, one hand lightly on Credence’s upper arm, while the other hovered at his temple without quite touching him. “You’re a smidgen taller than me.”

“Barely,” Credence said.

They smiled at each other.

"Got a table for you fellas," the man behind the counter called out, sounding as if he was only barely suppressing a chuckle. He added conspiratorially, "Best in the house, to be honest. All the most delicious smells from the ovens drift that way first."

Mr Graves laughed, not turning away from his examination of Credence’s face. He was showing straight white teeth and laugh lines around his warm brown eyes, and Credence stared at him with parted lips.

"Sounds very inviting, Mr Kowalski. Shall we..." If Mr Graves noticed Credence's blush, he was kind enough not to mention it, "...darling?"

"Yes, please." Credence tore his eyes from the other's face with great difficulty. He wasn't sure whether Mr Graves' guiding hand in the small of his back was helping or hindering his progress across the room.

All he knew was that, once he got there, one of the two chairs was pulled out for him and, when he sat down on it, Mr Graves' hand brushed along his shoulder, enveloping him momentarily in a warm, comforting scent of aftershave even better than the coffee and spices lingering in the air.

"Just going to leave you the menu. Word of advice: my cappuccino is the best within a hundred miles, and you'll never forgive yourselves if you don't give the mint chocolate cheesecake a try."

Credence smiled absently up at the beaming, round face of Mr Kowalski, and Mr Graves said, "We'll definitely keep that in mind." Then he sat down opposite Credence at the small table, and their knees knocked into one another.

While Mr Kowalski left them to make their selection, they kept apologising to each other about the awkwardness of arranging two pairs of long legs under the small table, until Mr Graves laughed and said, "There must be a sensible way to do this. If you'll allow me?"

Credence nodded, even while having no idea what he was about to do, and his eyes popped open wide when Mr Graves reached below the table and covered both of his knees with firm, warm hands, while arranging his own so one was between them, one pressed against the outside of his right. It left their thighs pressed together, but it was certainly _a_ solution.

"Is this okay?" Mr Graves asked, his voice a little husky. He drew his hands back slowly, fingertips trailing across Credence's knee caps.

"It's fine," Credence croaked. He quickly picked up the menu and raised it in front of his face, even though he had already decided to go along with Mr Kowalski's recommendations.

A finger hooked itself over the top of the menu and gently tugged it down a little. "Are you hiding?" Mr Graves looked amused.

"No," Credence claimed. Then he smiled and put down the menu. "Sorry."

"I'm nervous too, you know," Mr Graves said, sounding rather calm, as far as Credence could tell.

"Really?" 

"You bet." 

"It's so strange," Credence said. "Yesterday morning, I didn't even know you existed. And today…"

"Today?" Mr Graves moved one hand across the table and lightly traced Credence's knuckles. He continued to look at his face, even while Credence's eyes dropped to the point of contact.

"Today, there's nowhere I would rather be than here. With you." Credence met his eyes again, a soft blush on his cheeks.

"I feel the same way, darling." Mr Graves' hand slid fully over the back of the pale, trembling one underneath it, fingers curving warmly around its sides.

He didn't remove it when a cheerful female voice lightly asked, "Okay to interrupt?"

"Of course," Mr Graves glanced up for a moment. He smiled briefly at the pretty blonde dressed to match the pink chair covers and wearing a name tag proclaiming her to be ‘Queenie’, before looking at Credence again.

"Just thought you might like to order."

Credence held Mr Graves' eyes and asked him to go first.

"I'll have the cappuccino and a strawberry almond slice."

"Sure thing." The girl didn't bother writing that down.

"A cappuccino for me too, and I'd like to try the mint chocolate cheesecake, please," Credence said.

She beamed as if at least one of them choosing the house recommended cake was doing her a personal favour. “Cinnamon or chocolate on the cappuccinos?” When they both requested cinnamon, she said, “Coming right up," and floated off cheerily.

“Where are my manners?” Mr Graves said. “Let me go and hang up your jacket, you’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Credence shrugged out of his too loose plaid jacket and handed it over, trying not to feel self-conscious about it and his faded jeans and denim shirt.

He watched Mr Graves take his jacket to the coat stand and hang it over an elaborate hook. His embarrassment about how worn and unfashionable it looked was forgotten when the man took off his trench coat and hung it over the same hook, effectively wrapped around his jacket. He smiled shyly as he watched him return to the table, his well-built form dressed in deep brown slacks and a matching V-neck sweater with a white shirt underneath.

Settling down again, with his knees slotting easily now into their former positions—aligned with Credence’s—Mr Graves said, "Well, hopefully, their sweets will be as good as their sandwiches."

"Hopefully." In actual fact, Credence thought he'd happily eat a slice of Styrofoam and probably wouldn’t notice the difference. He was there entirely for the company. He shifted a little in his seat, blushing at the spreading warmth along his thighs. "Oh, sorry."

"It's fine." Mr Graves was smiling at him indulgently. “I’m guessing they cater mostly to couples here.”

That didn’t help the heat in Credence’s face at all. “That would explain the tables,” he said, licking his too dry lips.

“You know something?" Mr Graves said softly, his eyes briefly sweeping across Credence’s mouth before moving up. He reached out to tuck a dark, silky strand of hair behind the boy’s ear. "There's nothing wrong with your hair. I can't imagine why you don't like it."

Credence shivered under the touch, unknowingly leaning into it, just a little. "You really like it, daddy?"

"I like it a lot." Mr Graves smiled. "I like everything about you, if I'm to be perfectly honest."

Credence pressed his lips together, not quite in time to stop a soft gasp from escaping him. 

Luckily, that was when Queenie brought a tray with their drinks and cakes and, once she'd placed it all before them and had left again, they quietly started eating.

After a few bites, Mr Graves said appreciatively, "This is really good. I hope the mint chocolate cake is living up to its hype?"

Credence giggled. “Yes, it’s delicious.”

Smirking, Mr Graves said, “There’s that giggle I'm so fond of.” When Credence ducked his head, flustered but looking pleased, he kindly changed the subject back to the cake. “I’ll have to try it next time.”

Credence met his eyes and seemed to debate something with himself. “Do you… do you want to try some now?”

Mr Graves looked at him, at the plate he wasn’t moving any closer for him to help himself, then at Credence again. “I’d like that,” he said in a near whisper, leaning his upper body forward over the small table and parting his lips slightly.

Credence gulped, but speared a piece of the cake with his fork. He brought it to Mr Graves’ mouth and watched him close his lips around it to take it. He barely chewed it, apparently content to let the creamy, pale green filling, the golden base, and the glossy dark chocolate chips and topping, melt in his mouth.

“Do you like it, daddy?” Credence whispered after a minute or so, his eyes fixed on the other’s lips.

Mr Graves nodded but did not speak. His gaze was soft and impenetrable.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The boy was unspeakably sweet, and Percival had known it even before suggesting a personal meeting. He had been prepared for it, in as far as it was possible to prepare for Credence Barebone.

How anyone could hurt this boy, could even be so much as dismissive of him in speech, was unfathomable to him. He had been prepared to feel protective, even fiercely so. He had not been prepared for it all… the urge to stroke over the silky hair, to cup the elfin face, to hold the boy’s lovely head to his own shoulder, and to gather him in his arms and vow to keep him safe from anything and anyone who might ever wish him harm again.

He had not been sufficiently prepared and, right at that moment, he was as out of his depth as the boy himself, sitting before him and looking at him as if his daddy’s opinion on a piece of cake he had fed him could bring him joy or misery.

“It’s lovely,” Percival managed to say at last, not willing to leave him in suspense a moment longer than necessary.

And Credence smiled. He smiled his angel smile, with his beautifully sculpted lips and just a single cute, sharply pointed canine tooth disrupting the perfection of its neighbours, dark eyes shining like the deepest smoky quartz crystals.

Percival knew that, had he completed his degree and was running a psychiatric practice, and were Credence his patient, he would have to withdraw and refer him elsewhere. He felt anything but professional detachment, he knew this. But he also knew that detachment was the very last thing Credence needed, and he was not his therapist. He was his _daddy_.

Credence had chosen this connection as much as he had, and the terms of it as well. Credence was alone and uncertain, an innocent fighting to find his way in a life which had been nothing but cruel to him thus far, and had left him adrift. He was lost, but by no means hopelessly so. He had goals and dreams, and he, Percival, could be his boat, his compass, his anchor and his pole star. He could hold him steady and at a calm sway, and he could guide him how and wherever Credence wanted to go.

“Are you okay, daddy?” Credence asked softly.

“I’m fine.” Percival smiled. “I got a little lost in thoughts.”

“What were you thinking about?” Credence asked.

“You, darling,” he confessed.

“Oh.” Credence poked at his cake absently, but did not break their gaze.“Were they good thoughts?”

“Of course they were. I could think no other kind about you.” 

The gentle, and even relieved, smile tugged at Percival’s heart. It occurred to him Credence might ask for details, and he was unsure what to tell him of the tidal wave of emotions the boy had prompted in him during their brief acquaintance.

Feeling somewhat cowardly for not explaining himself, he offered instead, “Would you like to give my strawberry cake a try?”

Credence nodded. “Please.”

“It’s very crumbly,” Percival warned, gently guiding a forkful to the slightly open mouth. He held his free hand below Credence’s chin to catch escaping crumbs. When a small chunk of strawberry rolled over the full lower lip, he moved his palm upwards on instinct, cupping Credence’s chin fully, before he could think about it. The piece of fruit fell to the plate anyway, no mind paid to it by either of them, but Percival’s hand remained on the boy’s chin, fingers aligned with the sculpted jaw line.

Credence was looking into his eyes, and he might be hypnotising him for all the power Percival had within himself to break their gaze. He was barely chewing, following Percival's example and letting the creamier parts of the cake dissolve slowly, as if not to dislodge the hand around his jaw with unnecessary motions.

When Percival eventually released Credence's face, it and his hand were left warm and tingling.

"Thank you, daddy. I like yours too." 

"Credence…" Percival wasn’t sure what he meant to say. The way Credence looked at him, and sounded, made it hard to think, and the pressure of the firm thighs against his wasn’t helping.

“Yes?” the boy asked sweetly.

Percival cleared his throat. “Tell me about college. I know you said you don’t get along well with your classmates. How bad is it?”

Credence looked surprised at the question coming out of the blue; Percival couldn’t blame him. “It’s not that bad. They mostly leave me alone.”

“Mostly?” Percival asked, frowning.

“I stay out of their way when I can.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. You shouldn’t have to. You should be able to concentrate on your studies without worrying about your fellow students.” Percival wrapped his hands around both of Credence’s beside the plates, holding them tight as if it could keep him safe at all times.

Credence gasped, most likely at the sudden and unexpected warmth, but when Percival began to withdraw his hands, he said, “No, please!” looking at him pleadingly.

“Do you like this?” Percival asked, his voice coming out raspy.

“Yes.” Credence alternately gazed into his eyes from beneath lowered lashes and looked at the way Percival's hands completely covered his on the tabletop. “No one’s ever really touched me, except to… to…”

“To hurt you?” Percival guessed. When Credence pressed his lips together and nodded briefly, he took a deep breath. “I’m going to promise you something, darling.” Credence looked at him expectantly, and he said, “I will never hurt you in any way. Never. What’s more, I will find a way to ensure no one else will ever again be able to.”

Credence looked deep into his eyes and said, quite simply, “I trust you, daddy.”

The words were better than ‘I believe you’, Percival knew. And he would live up to that trust. He gave Credence’s hands—warmed and relaxed now in his hold—another squeeze, managing to coax a happy smile out of him.

"We've come a long way since only yesterday," Percival mused.

Nodding, Credence gave voice to Percival's thoughts as well as his own. "I feel as if I've known you forever. I've never been so comfortable with anyone."

"It's the same way for me, darling."

Credence leaned across the table as if to impart a great secret. "You know, I dialled that number twice yesterday." When Percival looked at him in amazement, he smiled and nodded. "The first time, someone answered like a robot, and I hung up."

Percival blinked. "I'm deeply grateful to my phoney colleague."

Credence laughed a bright, bubbling laugh at that, his eyes sparkling at Percival.

If Percival had still been in any doubt, that would have been the moment he had to face that he, too, was lost… in Credence.

"So am I," said Credence softly, all at once serious again.

The boy's moods and expressions could change in an instant, and Percival could only marvel at him. Credence’s expressive features and lovely eyes were more exciting to watch than the most thrilling adventure movie.

Percival noticed Queenie approaching, smiling at their hands connected on the table.

"I was gonna ask you if you wanted another cappuccino, but it looks like you never even touched the first one. Not surprising, what with your hands being busy." A wide smile lit up her face.

"Cheeky," said Percival, but he made no move at all to release the hands under his.

She laughed, while Credence was busy blushing. "You could complain to the management," she suggested brightly, "but it might not do much good, seeing that I'm married to him."

"Well, in that case, I won't bother, and we'll have a second set of cappuccinos. Okay, darling?" Percival looked at Credence.

He nodded."Yes, please."

"More cake?" she asked. When they both said no, she chirped, "Cappuccinos coming right up." Then she was off again, bearing away two full, cold cups.

“You’re not too busy to stay longer?” Credence asked carefully.

“Not at all. In fact, I have to confess—I’m glad we forgot about those cups. It’s a perfect excuse to spend more time with you.” Percival winked at Credence, which got him a deepening blush, as well as a confession murmured very quietly.

“I’m very glad too.”

Percival looked deep into his eyes, shifting his grip slowly until his fingers could fold around the slim wrists, while his thumb tips searched along the tender underside of them. “Your pulse is very fast.” He smiled teasingly. “I wonder if it’s from the chocolate.” When Credence shook his head, he tried, "The sugar, maybe?"

Credence blinked at him a couple of times. “I… um… I don’t think so.”

“No?” Percival drew Credence’s left hand closer and turned it over, like a palm reader, thumb tracing the veins under the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, before he met his eyes again; eyes gone dark and fixed on his, while the rosy mouth opened for breath. Not breaking their gaze, Percival lifted the wrist up and pressed his lips to the racing pulse, closing his eyes when Credence moaned very softly.

The sound set Percival’s blood on fire, and he struggled not to devour the tender flesh, his fingers sliding up the back of Credence’s hand and tangling with his from behind. “Do you like this too, or is it too much?”

“Yes,” Credence managed, wide-eyed and breathless. “I like it very much, daddy.”

Percival swallowed. He couldn’t help but notice the faded scars in the boy’s palm and, as if it could make them, and the memory of them, disappear, he pressed his lips right to the centre of them; pleasure trumps pain, always.

“Daddy,” Credence whispered, slim fingers trembling between his and trying to caress what they could reach of his cheek, before Percival stopped the kiss and simply looked into his eyes, his hand still held up between them.

They sat, motionless and overcome, for a minute or more, until there was a soft throat clearing from nearby, and they both glanced at Queenie.

“I’ve been taking these cups for a nice walk around the place to kill time, but they’ll be cold too if I keep that up.” She grinned. “Which might not be a bad thing, as maybe chamomile tea or some nice warm milk would be better?”

Credence squeaked in embarrassment, and Percival chuckled, only slowly releasing his raised hand, but not the one he still held covered on the table.

It just gave Queenie enough space to place the new cups down between them.

“Jacob says to tell you the nearest fire extinguisher is just around that corner there.” She nodded her head to indicate the direction, curls bobbing. “You know, in case the tablecloth, or one of yous, can’t take it.” She followed this with a giggle.

Credence groaned, covering his eyes with his free hand.

Percival raised a brow at her, while talking to Credence, “I know I said this was a great place, but they’re awfully witty around here. I’m not sure we should come back.”

Credence, too, started to giggle quietly.

Queenie made a dismissive gesture with one pink-nailed hand. “Nah, you’ll always come back here. It’ll be ‘Your Place’, you see. You never forget where you had your first date. Just like you don’t forget 'Your Song'.”

“How do you…?” Credence started, staring up at her.

Percival laughed. “That’s a very good point. I guess we’ll have to come back.”

Credence looked at him, and Percival gave him a slow, warm smile, which was returned at once.

“Whew!” Queenie shook her head, cackling. “I won’t disturb again unless you wave me over. You can pay at the counter later. Have fun, and _enjoy your cappuccinos_.” She winked at a blushing Credence.

“I would crawl under this table, if there was enough room,” Credence murmured.

Percival laughed. “No need to be embarrassed. I’m the one leading you astray.”

“Are you?” Credence asked, looking at him in such a way that Percival himself wondered.

“Perhaps not,” he said, smirking as he picked up his spoon and began to skim a thin layer of cinnamon sprinkled cream off the top of his cup.

“Daddy…” Credence began, then stopped, looking at him in some concern, as if he was unsure whether the title was still appropriate.

Percival smiled encouragement at him. “What is it, darling?”

Visibly relieved, Credence repeated, “Daddy… what was the piece of music playing when I got here?”

Looking surprised, Percival said, “I think it was the ‘Flowersong’ from the opera _Carmen_.” Then he understood and smiled. “How do you like what’s playing right now?”

“This is just as lovely.”

“It’s an aria called ‘Mon Cœur s’ouvre à ta voix’. It means ‘My Heart Opens to Your Voice’.”

Credence’s eyes grew very large. “Oh! But that’s…”

“... perfect,” said Percival.

“Yes.” Credence’s voice was a mere whisper. “Perfect.”

The bell above the door rang, and Credence jumped a little. “We’re forgetting about the coffees again.”

Percival laughed and lifted up his cup. “We’d better drink these, or we’ll be told off.”

Credence giggled. He lifted the cup and started sipping at it, promptly ending up with a white moustache by the time he got through the cream layer and set it down.

Percival looked at him very softly, chuckling.

“What?” Credence asked coyly.

Percival plucked a napkin from the swan-shaped holder and leaned forward, holding Credence’s chin as he had done earlier and dabbing the cream away gently.

Credence sat very still, blushing. “I always seem to make a fool of myself in front of you,” he said.

Percival crunched up the napkin. He kept holding his chin, placing his elbow on the table to support his upheld forearm, and gazed at Credence intently. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you something foolish about myself?”

“Uh hmm,” Credence murmured.

“I'm trying to pluck up the courage to ask to see you again tomorrow, because I'm not at all sure that, now I've met you, I could go more than 24 hours without you.”

Credence made a soft, pleased little sound. A luminous smile took over his entire face. "I'd like that a lot."

Percival returned it, "You’re sure I'm not interfering with your study time?"

Shaking his head, Credence said, "I can do that in the evening. I don't go out like the others. So it's the best, most quiet time for it anyway."

"Wonderful." Percival released his chin. "What would you like to do tomorrow?"

"Oh, I don't know." Credence’s sweeping brows drew together in thought.

"Anything you like. Anything at all."

"Anything?" Credence double-checked. When Percival nodded, he confessed. "It's silly, but ever since I've first been to Central Park, a few months ago, I've wanted to go on one of those carriage rides."

“You’ve not been there until a few months ago?” Percival asked sadly.

Shaking his head, Credence said, “I wasn’t allowed, because…” He shrugged. “You know.”

Percival took a deep breath. "There’s nothing silly about it. A carriage ride is a wonderful idea."

Credence beamed. "Really?"

“Certainly. What time do your classes finish tomorrow?”

“About midday.”

“Perfect. I’m not at the hotline for the rest of the week, so I'm free anytime. That gives us the whole afternoon together.”

Credence looked at him as if all his birthdays had come around at once, and Percival wanted to scoop him up in his arms and carry him all the way to Central Park, right there and then.

“If there’s anything else I can do to make the day unforgettable for you, please let me know,” Percival said softly.

Swallowing hard, Credence reached out and traced his fingertips over Percival’s knuckles hesitantly. “You’ll be there. That’s enough.”

“Yes, darling. I’ll be there.” Percival reached out and cupped Credence’s right cheek tenderly.

Credence closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into the touch.

“My sweet boy,” Percival whispered, so quietly he never expected Credence to hear him. But the dark eyes opened languidly and looked at him with such affection, he could scarcely remember how to breathe.

They managed to finish their drinks eventually, along with the cake largely abandoned, for all its deliciousness.

When Percival veered off to the coat rack on the way to the counter, he heard someone call out in surprise.

“Credence?”

He looked across to Credence, who was rapidly being approached by a young woman with short dark hair; she must have emerged from the back room.

Queenie looked back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

Credence nodded, and the dark-haired woman said, “We sure do!”

Percival made it to the counter in a few long strides, wondering if she was someone who had hurt the boy in any way.

Credence looked at him at once and beamed, and Percival was soothed. “This is Tina Goldstein, the social worker I told you about.”

Percival smiled and held out his right hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Ms Goldstein. Percival Graves.”

“Afternoon, Mr Graves.” She gave him a less than subtle visual assessment which, he assumed, was bound to conclude with, ‘He’s too old for Credence.’

“Well, I’ll be!” Queenie declared. “Teenie here is my big sister.” She grinned.

“Small world. Small city, anyway,” said Jacob, who was refilling a covered glass cake dome with éclairs.

“How is everything, Credence?” Tina Goldstein asked.

“Everything’s okay, Ms Goldstein.” He flicked a very quick glance towards Percival and said, with a secretive smile, “Now.”

Tina didn’t fail to notice it. “I see.” She frowned a little.

Percival decided it was time for a strategic retreat. “Darling,” he said, holding Credence’s jacket open.

Credence grinned at him and slipped his arms into it, letting himself be turned to face him so Percival could do up the buttons. “Thank you,” he said softly, once his fingers reached the third one from the top.

Percival smiled at him, flicking his finger under his chin.

“Ain’t they cute?” Queenie was whispering.

Tina looked at her, then back at them, and seemed to relax as if bowing to her sister’s intuition. “Yeah,” she said and, more loudly, “It’s so good to see you happy, Credence. You deserve it, after... everything.”

“Thank you, Ms Goldstein.”

“Tina.” She smiled.

“Okay, Tina.”

Percival paid, then lightly wrapped his arm around Credence’s shoulder, pleased at the way he leaned into him. “Well, we must be off. Credence has studying to do, I believe.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Don’t be strangers,” Jacob said.

Rather confidently, Queenie declared. “They won’t be. They’re regulars now!”

Percival and Credence laughed and, after goodbyes all around, left the cafe, with Percival holding the door open for him.

Outside, Credence said, "I'll tell you more about it one day, details I mean, if... if you want."

Percival didn't need to ask what he meant. "When you're ready and comfortable, darling. At your own pace."

Credence gave him a relieved smile.

“Well… may I walk you home? Or call a cab and drive you home?”

Credence laughed. “My dorms are on 97th Street.”

“That’s probably a little over half a mile away.”

“I’m in no hurry,” Credence hinted.

“Then neither am I.” Percival smiled.

They started walking and, within a few steps, Credence’s hand had slipped hesitantly into Percival's.

Percival was so pleased, he felt inclined to blow kisses at random passing strangers. He squeezed the slim hand and held onto it all the way, while they talked about which parts of Central Park they might see on a carriage ride.

Credence grew more and more excited about the prospect and, by the time they reached the solid brick building housing a sizable proportion of Hunter College’s student body, his eyes were shining and his lips smiling, and Percival found the prospect of parting ways for the evening very unpleasant.

"I've had a wonderful afternoon with you," he told Credence.

"Yes, it was really nice. There. And... and to be with you." Credence murmured, quickly glancing at him sideways. "It’s a pity I need to do class work,” he said. He was slowing down more and more.

Percival smiled when he noticed. “Yes, it is.” He tugged Credence around the corner of the building, out of sight of the small group of students lingering near the front entrance.

Credence leaned back against the wall, looking at him expectantly. He was breathing quickly, his hand still firmly in Percival’s.

Percival pressed his free hand to the wall beside Credence’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper close to his ear. “I so badly want to kiss you goodbye.”

Credence drew a shuddering breath. “Daddy…”

“And I think maybe you want me to.”

“Yes,” Credence gasped, nuzzling against his face. "Yes, I do."

“God, you’re so sweet,” Percival sighed. When Credence whimpered softly, he kissed a velvet-soft cheek. “I want our first kiss to be somewhere special. Somewhere beautiful.”

“Oh,” Credence whispered.

“Somewhere we don’t have to say goodbye right away.”

“I… I don’t want to wait, but… I understand.” Credence pressed their cheeks together, his free hand sliding under Percival’s open trench coat to clutch the soft sweater at his waist.

“Waiting is less appealing by the second,” Percival’s hand left the wall and moved behind Credence, curving around his nape. He kissed the sharp cheekbone, tipped the dark head and kissed the temple, then the hair just above Credence’s ear. By the time he kissed the rim of his ear, then the tender space just below the lobe, Credence was panting, pressing into him.

Percival let go of the hand he still held and pulled Credence close properly, taking a deep breath of the skin of his neck, memorising his scent. 

“I’m going to dream about you, daddy,” Credence gasped very softly. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, baby, that’s okay.” Percival moaned softly into the tender flesh when he felt Credence shiver all over. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep to even dream.”

A husky little laugh tickled along Percival’s ear. “Are you going to kiss me... really, really kiss me, tomorrow?”

“Mmm…” Percival licked briefly along the side of Credence's neck, then nipped at it tenderly.

“Da-daaaddy!”

Drawing back, Percival stood and looked into Credence’s nearly black eyes, the moan still lingering on the too red lips. “Time for me to go, I think.” He laughed a little, running his right hand back through the soft waves on the crown of his head. ”You’re much too tempting.”

Credence pouted a little, but it didn’t come off right. He was too flustered and glassy-eyed. 

“Don’t do that,” Percival said, amused. He swept a long strand of black hair off Credence’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Credence smiled softly.

“I’ll wait for you at the main doors, from midday onwards.”

“Yes, daddy." Credence touched the centre of Percival's chest tenderly. "I can't wait.”

Percival covered the hand and leaned in for a very quick kiss to the tip of Credence’s nose. “Sleep tight, darling.”


	3. Oh, My Beloved Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My most sincere apologies the last chapter took so long, but I hope the length of it will make up for the wait somewhat. :)
> 
> The Spotify playlist from chapter 2 continues, once Percival starts his stereo, with the 7th song on it; you'll find the link to it at the appropriate point in the text. If you don't use Spotify, here's a list of the pieces of music, starting at that point onwards. The last piece gave this chapter its title. ;)
> 
> Madama Butterfly: Entrance of Butterfly - Giacomo Puccini  
> Salut D'amour, Op. 12 - Edward Elgar  
> Virgin's Slumber Song - Reger  
> La Traviata: Prelude (Act One) - Guiseppe Verdi  
> O mio babbino caro - Giacomo Puccini (vocal)

Percival smiled at the first text of the day he received from Credence, while having breakfast.

_Morning, daddy. Can't wait to see you later._

He replied at once. _Good morning, darling. I can't wait either. Did you dream about me?_

When he got a flushed face emoji in response, he chuckled.

 _I see,_ he replied. _I just finished booking our carriage._

_OH_

This was followed by a big smile and a heart.

Percival contemplated the heart and was more than happy to send one back.

_Something strange happened after you dropped me off._

Percival frowned and typed. _What happened?_

_Some of my classmates saw you and just stared at me. They asked if you're my boyfriend. I didn't know what you'd want me to say, so I just nodded. I didn’t say you’re also my daddy._

This was followed by a winking emoji.

Percival smirked and texted, _Did they give you any trouble?_

_No! They looked impressed. And they were nice to me for the first time._

Percival laughed. Of course. He might have considered the predictability of college kids. Invariably in awe of one in their midst who managed to snag someone older and more mature. If his very existence could get Credence some peace and respect while they were apart, he’d certainly do his best to fan the flames.

 _We’ll make sure to impress them some more,_ he texted. _Still okay for 12?_

_YES_

This was followed by another big smile and a sun, and it literally warmed Percival through to his bones that the mere anticipation of an afternoon in his company should make Credence so happy.

* * *

A cab was waiting at the curb, and Percival—in a navy blue coat and matching slacks, paired with a blue and white patterned sweater—was waiting in front of the building when Credence came rushing out the doors, along with a stream of other students. He stopped for a moment, just smiling at Percival, who opened his arms wide.

Credence visibly drew a deep breath, glanced around a little self-consciously, but then ran towards him, flinging himself into Percival’s arms.

"Hey,” he whispered against the side of his neck, audible to none but themselves.

Percival held him tight, smiling and blithely ignoring the stares and less than subtle whispers. “Hello, darling.”

“Isn’t that… Barebone? But—”

“Wow, that guy’s hot. Who is he?”

“Do you think he’s a relative?”

“I’ve always thought Barebone was kinda cute, just... not cool, ‘ya know?”

“Me too, to be honest.”

“ _Seriously?_ Does that look like a family reunion, Todd?” 

Percival could feel Credence shaking ever so slightly in his arms, and he wasn’t sure whether he was suppressing laughter, or whether he was embarrassed. Just in case, he decided it would be best to be off.

He took him by his shoulders and smiled at him and said, loud enough for everyone, including the rather slow Todd, to hear, “Let’s go, baby. I have a lot of plans for you today.” He followed this up with a lascivious smirk and a wink, but managed not to laugh when Credence went beet red right up over his ears.

“Can’t wait,” Credence managed to croak, then let himself be steered to the back of the cab, making sure to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. He yelped when Percival gave him a playful smack on the bottom as he climbed in.

“Let’s go, cabbie,” instructed Percival as he followed him into the back seat. “You know where to.”

The driver briefly glanced in the rear view mirror. “You got it, mister.”

Percival looked at Credence, who sat peering at him, flustered and absolutely lovely in a worn pair of black jeans and a grey sweater featuring a grinning lime green crocodile, a grey parka—not nearly warm enough for the weather—hanging loosely off his shoulders. He smiled at him. “Did I embarrass you?” he asked softly.

Credence shook his head. “No.” He smiled, a little twitch to the right corner of his mouth that Percival found himself very tempted to kiss. “It was kind of funny.” He smiled more broadly. “I’ll be the envy of all now.”

Percival took hold of one slim hand, where it was fiddling with the edge of the sweater, and tugged.

Credence took the hint and shifted closer, sighing when Percival leaned in and kissed his cheek. He whimpered softly when Percival murmured in his ear, “And yet, I’m the lucky one.” 

Credence looked at him, his eyes full of undisguised longing, and asked, very quietly, “Am I naughty for disagreeing, daddy?”

A frisson of heat curled around Percival’s spine. “Very naughty,” he said, his voice equally low. “It’s a good thing I’ve already spanked you.”

At this, laughter bubbled out of Credence like a string of soap bubbles; judging by his expression, he surprised even himself.

Percival joined in, partly because the transformation Credence was undergoing was very pleasing, but also because being with this wonderful boy filled him with a joy unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

* * *

Once the cab had dropped them off at the corner of Central Park, Percival quickly spotted the carriage waiting for them. He pointed it out, and Credence was so excited, he was positively vibrating by the time they came up beside it.

Percival made sure they were getting the full tour he’d booked, but with no sightseeing interruptions.

"I think it's going to rain," the driver told them.

Percival agreed, requesting the roof be put up, just in case. "Rain or not, we do like our privacy."

The driver grinned. "Gotcha. No tour guiding or photo stops on this trip."

"Exactly. Glad we understand each other."

When Percival turned to Credence and offered him a hand to help him up into the enclosed carriage, he felt rather as if they’d entered a fairy tale and wondered when he’d become so whimsical and romantic.

Credence’s soft blush and demurely lowered eyes told him exactly when. He needed a moment to recover his equilibrium while he watched Credence scoot over, though not too far, to make room for him.

The drive was peaceful, considering they were in Central Park, but it was cold and very overcast, which seemed to keep most of the tourists away.

Percival watched Credence’s bright eyes marvel at everything. He admired the angel high up on the Bethesda fountain. At Cherry Hill, Percival told him, “I’ll bring you back here in spring, when the cherry trees blossom.” Credence’s face lit up at that. He loved the picturesque Bow Bridge and, of course, the Lake, as well as the Strawberry Fields immortalised in song. Percival laughed when Credence pouted because Sheep Meadow was entirely devoid of sheep.

“There are sheep on my family estate, darling. I’ll take you out there to see them anytime you like.”

At this, Credence’s joy seemed to bubble over, and he quickly hugged Percival sideways and awkwardly.

Percival laughed, pleased about the hug and amused by the things Credence excitedly pointed out. But, all in all, he took in very little of the actual sights of Central Park, which were infinitely less new and exciting to him than the beautiful creature bouncing up and down beside him in the plush seat. He knew then that this was the perfect moment he had waited for.

When Credence was halfway through a gushing description of the lake, Percival cupped his face and turned it, smiling at the widening eyes. The little anticipatory gasp was lost between them when Percival kissed the sweet mouth into silence, delighting in the way Credence trembled and clutched at him. His fingers slid through the dark hair as he deepened the kiss, gently coaxing the soft lips further apart.

Credence tilted his head, his whole body curving submissively against Percival’s, and Percival pressed him back into the seat.

He could practically taste the soft moan on his tongue, taking it as permission to explore more deeply. He was desperate to taste every nuance of the warm cavern. Credence’s arms were tight around him, almost desperately so, and Percival released the glistening lips for a breath and a murmured, “Baby...”

“Oh, daddy, kiss me again,” Credence pleaded in a whisper, nipping at his mouth as if he was starving for Percival’s taste already.

“So greedy,” Percival murmured, amused but pleased.

“Mmm…” Credence pressed soft little kisses to his cheeks and his chin, his cool fingers clutching at the soft sweater under Percival’s coat.

His mouth, by contrast, was hot and wet when Percival granted his wish all too willingly. The eager, inexperienced attempts to keep up soon devolved into soft whimpers and frustrating sucks on his tongue; frustrating because they were simply too good.

Percival drew back, struggling for cool. He found it in the sensation of Credence's hands through his clothes. “Your hands are so cold,” he said, barely recognising his own voice. He covered them with his own and flattened them against his chest.

When the carriage went around a corner, Credence was pushed into Percival, and the blanket over their knees slipped a little. Percival drew it up higher, tucking it between Credence’s shoulder and the back of the seat, then flinging the other end over his own shoulder.

“Better?” he asked against a cool cheek.

“Yes, so much better,” Credence said, confidentially. Under the blanket, his chilled hands moved right around Percival’s waist, and he held onto him tight.

It was very tempting to simply pull Credence into his lap and heat him up in double time, but Percival was well aware the carriage, while reasonably private, did not shield them from public view entirely, and it was just as well. He had no intention of scaring Credence with his lack of restraint.

“Daddy?” Credence whispered, as ever conscious of the need to not be overheard and instinctively keeping such 'titles' private.

“What is it, darling?” Percival nuzzled his temple when the dark head rested on his shoulder.

“Thank you for this.”

Smiling, Percival teased, “For wrapping you up in a blanket?”

“That too.” Credence sighed softly when Percival’s arms tightened around him. “For the ride, for the kisses, for... snuggling with me and being so gentle. For… everything.” That last came out shy and bashful.

“Oh, darling, you don’t ever need to thank me for anything,” Percival told him, his heart hurting at the neglect of which such gratitude spoke. “And holding and kissing you is my absolute pleasure.”

This prompted Credence to press his lips to his neck. “Yeah?”

In lieu of words, Percival answered with fingers lightly stroking through Credence’s hair, with lips moving along the hairline, across the forehead, and down the cold nose.

He felt Credence’s breath against his neck and the underside of his jaw, and it was fast and irregular. By the time his lips found the panting mouth again, he was as desperate as Credence—for its shape and its sweet softness, yielding so willingly to him. This time, Credence returned his kiss with a touching need to impress, and their tongues slid together in a wet, sensual dance.

They failed to even notice the rain at first, and only when it got heavy and the driver swore out loud did it fully make itself known to them.

"Good thing the tour's only got ten minutes to go, folks," the driver proclaimed.

"Yes, good thing." Percival was aware his voice sounded husky and, by the look on Credence's face, he was well aware of his state too. He smiled at him, speaking more softly only to him. "We're going to get drenched the moment we step outside this carriage. There wasn't a single cloud earlier, so I brought no umbrella."

"What do we do?" Credence asked. "Just run for the nearest roof?"

"We could do that." Percival assessed him for a moment. "Or we could snap up the first cab we see."

"Are you going to take me back to the dorms?" Credence asked.

"Do you want me to?" Percival watched Credence's face closely for even the slightest sign of reluctance or uncertainty.

"No," Credence said, his fingers playfully intertwining with Percival's under the blanket, while he held his eyes boldly.

Percival made no effort to keep his pleasure at the response from his gaze or his voice. "I don't live far from here." Percival caressed the no longer chilly digits. "Would you like to see my place?"

Credence nodded without hesitation, blushing when Percival withdrew his hands from the blanket's warmth to raise them to his lips. He gasped softly when his knuckles were kissed by Percival's lips.

* * *

They were indeed drenched by the time they made it into a cab and were heading to Percival’s apartment. The driver looked none too pleased about the state they were in, but Credence seemed to find it very amusing, and Percival was simply happy to see him enjoying himself.

Credence gave him shy glances and teasing lip bites all the way up in the elevator which, had there not been someone else inside with them for every single floor, might have made Percival stage an emergency stop.

The shy glances became shyer as they walked down the corridor and, by the time Percival unlocked his door and turned off the alarm, Credence looked positively flustered. He drew him inside by the hand and said softly, “Don’t look so scared, darling. I’m not going to make any demands of you. None at all.” He brushed his knuckles over the rain damp, once again cool, cheeks.

“I’m not scared of you, Percival.” Credence sniffed, then frowned. “None at all?” He sounded a little put out.

Percival laughed out loud. “Come on. Before I show you around, let’s get you out of these wet things.” He hung up their dripping jackets by the front door, shifting the rubber door mat below the coat stand, then led Credence to the bathroom. “There’s a nice warm bathrobe on a hook behind the door, and you can hang your wet things over the drying rack across the bath.”

“Okay.” Credence smiled.

“I’ll get changed too. Just come out whenever you’re ready.” Percival left, closing the door behind himself.

When Credence emerged a few minutes later, dressed in the long white robe and barefooted, Percival was sitting at the foot of his bed, in grey sweat pants and a red pullover, and came out to meet him. “You look cosy.”

“I am.” Credence sighed happily, wrapping his arms in the thick, fluffy sleeves around himself. He hummed when Percival’s arms closed over his own and he kissed his forehead.

“Ready for the tour?”

“Yes, please.”

They started with the master bedroom, which was right next to the bathroom, of course, but didn’t linger once Percival noticed how flustered Credence became with each glance towards the large bed. He steered him down the hall, then watched him closely when he showed him the guest bedroom.

“This is nice too,” Credence said, tracing his fingers along the smoothly turned wooden bed posts.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s not in use, you know. It seems a waste of such a perfectly good room, especially as there’s easily room in here for a desk and lots of books.”

Credence looked at him, his eyes full of questions and hope.

Percival just smiled and led the way back out of the room and down the hall, where the open plan living room, dining room and kitchen all bloomed out of the corridor like a flower head out of the stem.

“You could dance in here!” Credence exclaimed, then added shyly. “If you wanted to.”

Laughing, Percival said, “Yes, you could.” He went over to the fireplace to light it. “Have a seat on the sofa. I’ll just warm up the room and… do you want something? Coffee? Tea? Food? You couldn’t have had lunch before I picked you up.”

“I’m fine.” Credence shook his head, but then changed his mind. “Maybe... Dragonwell tea?”

“Ah! Good choice,” Percival praised, and they both laughed at the memory of sharing tea over the phone. 

[Start Playlist with the 7th song here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/76jCFeZJeSC6skNrUbNR8m)

Once Percival had lit the fire, he started the stereo, watching Credence’s pleased reaction to the soft, classical music so much like what they’d been listening to at Kowalski’s. Then he made the tea, as well as a plate of sandwiches, unable to stop himself from repeatedly glancing at Credence relaxing into _his_ sofa, curled up in _his_ bathrobe, looking around with great curiosity at _his_ ornaments, knickknacks and decorations. When he met his eyes across the room, Credence blushed softly at finding himself observed. He looked at home there, with him, and it made Percival’s heart ache how much he wanted that, even so soon after getting to know him.

He took the tea tray over and poured their cups, then offered Credence the sandwich plate.

“Thank you.” Credence ate the salmon and cream cheese sandwich, then held the steaming cup between his hands and blew across it.

“Are your hands cold again?” Percival asked in concern.

“Not really, this is just cosy, and also… I’m a little nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, my darling,” Percival said very softly. He held out his right arm and motioned Credence closer, drawing him against his side once he was near enough. Then he kissed the crown of his head tenderly, smiling at Credence’s sigh and the growing lassitude of the body in his hold as the boy relaxed.

“Nervous is the wrong word,” Credence confessed, then peered up at Percival. “Excited.”

Smirking slowly, Percival said, “Oh? Now that’s very interesting. I wonder what you’re excited about?”

“You shouldn't tease me, daddy,” Credence protested, but he was giggling.

“But it’s such fun, darling. I don’t think I can help myself.” Percival watched Credence's face with loving affection, smiling at the different shades his blush took on, the longer he looked at him. He caressed a smooth cheek and marvelled at the various expressions chasing each other across the beautiful face. “Credence,” he told him softly, “I’m happy just to have you here with me, close enough to hold and take care of. There’s no rush for us to do anything at--”

Credence raised his hand, and his fingertips touched Percival's mouth as if to gently silence him. He gasped when his wrist was taken and his fingers kissed, one by one--the tips, then the insides of the knuckles, them the palm, almost like in the café.

When Credence pointed this out, Percival smiled. "I seem to have a hard time keeping from playing with your hands.”

“I don’t mind. I like it.” Credence swallowed hard, the cup shaking a little in his other hand. “You c-can play with… m-more of me.”

Percival gently took the cup from his grasp and set it on the table. “I think we’d better put this out of harm’s way.”

“I like the tea,” Credence said, sounding breathless and a little desperate.

“That’s good. We can have more later.” Percival smiled and leaned in. He brushed the long hair back from the side of Credence’s neck, his mouth taking its place. Credence gasped. “Tell daddy what you need, baby.” Percival’s voice was low, coaxing. “I’ll give you only what you need, nothing more, nothing less.”

Credence shivered. “Oh daddy, I need… _oh!_ I need _you_.” He shifted, scrambling closer, pulling up his knees alongside Percival.

“You need me to hold you?”

“Uh huh.”

Percival slid his arm around Credence’s waist. He held him tight, nuzzling into the other side of his neck now. “You smell so good, baby—sweet and fresh and even of that rain from earlier.”

Credence whined quietly, his head tipping back further while Percival’s mouth played all over his exposed throat, pressing kisses everywhere. When he licked at the smooth skin and measured his pulse with the tip of his tongue, Credence whispered, “You’re so good to me.”

“Oh, baby, it’s so easy to be good to you. You’re so soft and gentle.” Percival cupped the back of Credence’s head and tilted it so he could look into his eyes. “I want to do whatever I can to make you happy,” he said. “Will you let me?”

Credence nodded, and they both leaned in at once to kiss. Credence’s lips parted with such ease and willingness, it was tempting to simply plunder, but his inexperience all along had been apparent in every sudden gasp, every shiver when breath caressed skin, every surprised moan slipping from his lips at the tiniest nip to his skin, and Percival wanted only to soothe him with his kiss.

That was until Credence returned it hungrily, his hands clutching at Percival’s hair as he climbed across his lap, and that plan evaporated in a moment. The kiss became desperate, Credence seeking out skin under his collar and sliding a hand under Percival’s pullover. Percival shifted him for better access, then hissed at the pressure on his arousal.

Credence moaned softly. “Did I do that?” he asked innocently, but with a gleam in his eyes.

“Did you do this? You bet you did, darling.” Percival chuckled, then kissed him again, one hand finding its way under the thick lapels of the robe and trailing shivers over Credence’s skin until he cried out at the first tentative contact with a nipple.

“Oh god, daddy, please do that again.”

Percival did, circling the hard, protruding nub with his index finger and lightly tracing the hair around it with his thumb. His whole body reacted to the sounds Credence made. He pushed the flannel further aside, his mouth latching onto the hard nipple and _sucking_.

Credence almost shrieked, arching up and onto his knees, and Percival wondered if he’d made him come already, but he was hard against his sternum, and his panting was only briefly interrupted. To his surprise, Credence, after a quick struggle, pulled the robe aside further, leaving his whole chest exposed to Percival’s eyes.

Percival soothed his hands over the pale, no longer cool, skin, fingers combing through soft hair and tracing up towards the deep dip between collar bones. “Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the shaded valley, his hands hot on Credence’s bare shoulder and at his nape.

“I want to see you, daddy,” Credence pleaded, tugging meaningfully at the edge of Percival’s pullover.

He smiled and, with one hand, pulled and tugged it up. Credence helped him eagerly, bringing it up over his head and flinging it over the back of the sofa. Then he instantly reddened and apologised. Percival smiled and told him it didn’t matter at all, but the words died halfway out of his mouth. The absolute admiration in the boy’s eyes was more than flattering, and the stroking, long-fingered hands were a sensual torment. When he pressed Credence close, the hands slipped from between them and wrapped around his neck, and the pleased mewl and full-body shiver went right through him.

“You’re so warm,” Credence breathed.

Percival could feel the rapid rise and fall of Credence’s chest against his own, and felt the vibration of his heartbeat too. He held him close, his mouth a gentle touch against a flushed cheek. “I’ll always keep you warm, darling, anytime you come into my arms.”

“Oh, daddy.” Credence’s voice was a soft plea close to his ear. His fingers dug into Percival’s shoulders, and he rocked gently back and forth.

Percival groaned, his hands gliding from Credence’s waist down to clutch his hips, then cupping his bottom and drawing him even closer.

Credence was breathing rapidly, still rocking against Percival, slowly driving him mad.

“Tell daddy what you _want_ , baby,” Percival prompted this time.

“Touch me, please,” Credence begged. “Down… down there.”

Percival all too willingly obliged him, his gently curved palm stroking over the impressive bulge through the flannel. Only for a moment, because Credence’s moan and the way it twitched into his touch made it suddenly very urgent to brush the flannel aside and wrap his palm around the hard shaft.

“Oh god,” Credence gasped, hiding his face against the side of Percival’s neck.

“Shh, darling, I've got you.” Percival closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the feel of Credence in his arms, under his hands, in his _life_. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“I know,” the boy murmured shakily. “I trust you.”

“Credence…” Percival turned his face to kiss every inch of the flushed face he could reach. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.” His hand squeezed gently around the warm weight, causing a soft moan against his neck.

“Feels so _good_...”

“Mmm,” Percival agreed, so painfully hard that the tip of Credence’s cock brushed his through the soft fabric of his pants. He couldn’t suppress his groan at the sensation.

“Daddy,” Credence breathed, fingers playing at his waistband. “I can feel you. I want to touch you, too.”

“Please,” Percival all but begged. “Go ahead, darling. Anything you want.”

There was a brief struggle as they pushed Percival’s loose pants well down and shifted into a horizontal position, with Credence--his bathrobe untied and open--half on top of Percival. Hesitant fingers teased Percival’s cock until he couldn’t stop the growl escaping him. It made Credence shiver all over, his fluids welling from the tip of his cock and sliding over Percival’s groin where they rutted against each other.

“Daddy, help,” Credence pleaded with enchanting desperation, moving against him while trying to stroke him at the same time.

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me take care of you.”

Immediately withdrawing his hand, Credence nodded. His mouth fell open in wonder and pleasure when Percival’s hand closed around them both, his other hand angling Credence just right with its grip on his waist.

“Uh…” Credence shuddered, fingers digging into Percival’s flesh with the tightness of the grip and the feel of Percival’s cock against his, both of them rock hard and getting slicker by the moment.

“Beautiful boy,” Percival gasped, stroking them firmly, paying special attention to the soft, bulbous tip and persistently leaking slit of Credence’s cock. “My wonderful darling.”

“Oh, Percival…” Credence’s voice was half prayer, half sob, leaving the very core of his being exposed and Percival in absolute awe of his awakening sensuality.

“It’s going to feel so good to come like this,” Percival told him. “To feel you spilling all over me while I look into your eyes.

“Please,” Credence gasped, his back arching. He made sure to meet Percival’s gaze now, as if that hope was a firm instruction to him.

“You’re such a good boy,” Percival all but moaned out. “That’s right, baby, look at me.”

“Love this, Percival,” Credence whispered, then added, softly as a breath, “Love _you_.” This was followed by a lip bite as if he was afraid of the reaction.

Percival’s eyes widened, a smile of pure joy tugging at his lips. “I love you too, my darling. Love you so much.”

Credence sobbed, his lashes fluttering and his whole body shaking. As if with the acceptance, the building tension relaxed all at once, and he came with a sudden, intense climax, bathing both of them, and Percival’s stroking hand, with his warm fluids.

Percival groaned, squeezing tightly—Credence through the height of his orgasm, himself into his own. Their combined seed spilled through his fingers, covering them both from stomachs to thighs. And, all throughout, they looked into each other’s eyes.

Afterwards, Credence went limp in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of Percival’s neck. He sighed softly.

Percival wiped his hand on the flannel of Credence’s robe, then used the other side to clean stray streaks off them both. He vowed to take the robe off Credence at the first opportunity. He held him close, smiling into the messy strands of black hair. “You’re such a wonder, sweet darling.” He felt Credence’s smile against his neck, then brushed his hair back from his face when he raised his head to look at him.

“Do you think…” Credence hesitated.

“What, my love?”

Credence seemed to take a few moments to gather up his courage. “When you showed me that room… earlier… were you inviting me? To live here with you?”

Percival twirled a silky strand of hair around his index finger. “Yes, I was. Would you like that, darling? To stay with me, instead of at the college dorms?”

Credence nodded at once. “Yes, please!”

Percival smiled. “Oh, darling, I’m so glad. You can have all the space and privacy and peace you need here. I only want to have you close to me, and to know you safe.

“I could never be safer anywhere than I am with you, daddy.” Credence blushed suddenly and lowered his eyes. “Do I… do I have to stay… I mean sleep in the guest room?”

Percival’s heart leapt, but he couldn’t resist teasing, “Is there somewhere you’d rather sleep?”

Nodding, Credence ran a slim finger along Percival’s jaw, then met his eyes. “May I sleep with you?”

Percival cupped the back of his head and answered him with a kiss which could leave no doubt in Credence’s mind about how much he liked that idea. When they drew apart, breathing rapidly, Percival said, “Would you like to test my bed for comfort?”

Credence nodded at once and scrambled to his feet hurriedly.

Chuckling, Percival let himself be tugged up by one hand, then brushed the open robe off Credence’s shoulders and reached around his naked body to lift him up into his arms. Credence gasped, wrapping his long arms and legs around Percival to be carried to the bedroom. There, Percival pressed one knee down on the mattress and laid him down, following him into the soft bedding.

Credence sighed happily. “It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” Percival looked down at him, brushing hair back from his temple. “Would you like to take a little nap?”

Credence looked deep into his eyes. “No,” he breathed.

“What would you like, darling?” Percival asked in a hoarse voice.

Credence blushed. “I want to feel you… ohhh...” His words faltered when Percival moved between his thighs, gentle rocking motions even as he continued to stroke over Credence’s hair. “Want to feel you inside me, daddy.” 

Percival moaned softly, pressing his face into the crook of Credence’s long neck.

“Is that… is that okay?”

The gentle hesitancy in the boy’s voice threatened to undo Percival entirely. “Yes, baby, that’s more than okay.”

Credence whined with loss when Percival knelt between his spread thighs, but he watched with curiosity as a pillow was pushed under his hips and Percival lowered himself flat to the bed and moved very close to his.... “Oh, but--” Credence reddened.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby. This is going to feel so nice.”

Credence bit his lip. “I don’t think I can help it, but I want you to… touch me there.” He tipped his head sideways to avoid Percival’s eyes.

Hopelessly charmed by Credence’s bashful eagerness, Percival told him in a low voice, “I’m going to do more than touch you there, darling, but you don’t have to watch.” Before Credence could ask, he was flipped onto his front, arse into the air and legs spread around Percival.

“Oh god,” he squeaked, scrambling at the sheets.

“If you want me to stop, you just say so, okay?” Percival told him.

Credence nodded, then buried his face in the pillow. His muffled cry of surprise when Percival’s breath on his hole was almost at once followed by a lick across it made Percival nearly half hard again already. Credence shook all over when he was breached by the tip of the exploring tongue, and Percival had to press him down with his hands firm on his cheeks.

“Oh daddy, daddy… god!” Credence wailed.

Percival smiled to himself even while he licked and slurped, a single fingertip venturing into Credence, alternating with his tongue.

Sobbing, Credence pressed back against the intrusion, and Percival was amazed at the ease with which he took his finger all the way.

“So eager, darling,” he cooed. “Do you want your daddy so much?”

“Yes! Please, daddy, want to feel you inside.”

Percival reached for his lubricant on the bedside table and, with a very generous amount slicked around Credence’s hole and all over two fingers now, started widening him.

Gasping and arching his back, Credence not only allowed but invited the exploration, and seemed to preen at the praise lavished on him.

“Such a good boy, letting me stretch you and make you ready for me,” Percival told him, having to grip himself tightly at the sounds Credence made. He used the lubricant on his achingly hard cock even while preparing Credence, and the sight of his glistening, open hole trying to clench on nothing made him hurry.

“Please.” Credence looked over his shoulder awkwardly. His eyes were dark with arousal and strands of long hair were stuck to his forehead and temples.

Groaning, Percival lined himself up and took hold of the slim hips. “Now, baby, I’ve got you now.” And he pushed in slowly and with utmost care.

For a long moment, Credence seemed to have forgotten to breathe, then suddenly started at once with gulping, eager gasps. “Oh… oh, I can _feel_ you.” There were tears in his voice.

Percival shifted slowly so he could cover the back of Credence’s body, his arms folding around him as best he could as he thrust--small, shallow movements to get Credence used to him. He nuzzled against the side of the warm neck, the soft, hiccuping breaths driving him as crazy as the boy’s scent. “Credence...” he sighed, “baby.”

Credence arched under him, trying to meet his thrusts, moaning when, unexpectedly, he drew Percival deeper into himself.

“Like that, baby, that’s right.”

“Is that… unghh… does that feel good, daddy?” he asked, clenching around him.

Groaning out loud, Percival held himself perfectly still. “That feels really good, baby.” He panted wetly against the back of Credence’s neck, feeling his shivers under his lips. “I wish I could keep on making love to you all the time.”

“Oh! I wish you could too, but I… I can’t hold out much longer,” Credence gasped out.

Percival raised himself on his hands, pulling out very slowly.

“Oh no, daddy, don’t!”

“Hush, darling. I want to see you when you come.” Percival soothed and petted Credence while turning him over and positioning the long legs over his shoulders.

Credence was flushed and his eyes were wet, but he only moaned softly when Percival pushed back inside his loosened hole.

Percival used his hands on either side of Credence for support and started thrusting--quick, but deep, this time, drawing moans out of Credence until they were almost one long continuous one. “Come on, baby, come for daddy,” he coaxed, watching the copious pearls of fluid welling from the pink tip of the cock bobbing up and down so temptingly.

“Yes, daddy,” Credence breathed, then he stuttered out a long moan as Percival closed his hand around his cock and stroked him to an intense climax that left him clenching, once again, around him.

Percival’s hand was sticky and slick with Credence’s release, and the boy was still whimpering when he clutched at his hips and started thrusting in quick, short bursts, his cock already throbbing and spurting inside the clenching channel. “Oh god, baby, you feel so good. Love how tight you grip me.”

“Percival…” Credence sighed, reaching up his long fingers to touch Percival’s cheek. His wrist was taken and his fingertips kissed even as he was being filled.

When Percival lay down beside him and drew him into his arms, he still didn’t release his hand, holding it to his own heart. “I love you so much,” he whispered against Credence’s warm, flushed cheek, smiling when the words were murmured back and emphasised with a kiss.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetsorcery) or [Dreamwidth](https://sweetsorcery.dreamwidth.org/). Feel free to drop me a message anywhere. :)


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